


paths are crossing.

by alekstraordinary



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: First Meetings, Judgement, M/M, description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23861977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alekstraordinary/pseuds/alekstraordinary
Summary: He stood out from the shabbiness and the gloom of his surroundings like a sore thumb. The crisp lines of his perfectly tailored coat and the old-fashioned ribbon with a gem he wore in the place of a tie were sharply cutting him off from the tired and worn-out officers buzzing through the vast, cold hall of the G.C.P.D. — looking into the minds of Oswald and Edward during their first meeting in s01e15THE SERIES HAS NOW BECOME A MULTICHAPER FIC TO KEEP ALL THE PARTS IN ONE PLACE! https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934097/chapters/57556273
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Edward Nygma
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	paths are crossing.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Did you miss me? I hope you did lmao. Anyway today as I wanted to make a thread on Twitter I've realized that I missed a big phat opportunity in this series by not writing about my favourite scene being Oz and Ed meeting for the first time so! Here it is! Just be warned that it might not be as good as the following stories (which are now accordingly #2 and #3 of the series) and I wrote half of it after half a bottle of wine but,,, well lately it just brings me a lot of joy to think bout Oz and Ed and writing about them and dissecting and analyzing their relationship. Anyway enough babbling I hope you're going to enjoy this story but if it's your first one of mine! Don't get discouraged--the following stories in this series have actual dialogue ;)  
> (you can also follow me on Twitter @alekstraordinar)

He stood out from the shabbiness and the gloom of his surroundings like a sore thumb. The crisp lines of his perfectly tailored coat and the old-fashioned ribbon with a gem he wore in the place of a tie were sharply cutting him off from the tired and worn-out officers buzzing through the vast, cold hall of the G.C.P.D. His presence there was so unexpected, and his rather frail frame alone so out of place that he had caught Ed’s attention the very moment he came through the front door. He was clearly looking for someone, yet at the same time, he knew exactly where he was going—a simple conclusion drawn from the way he carried himself, clever eyes scouring the nooks and crannies of the police station. It wasn’t the first instance when he appeared here, and it certainly wasn’t the last, but the previous time it had happened, it had resulted in quite a spectacle between Gordon and Bullock. Even if it weren’t for the peculiar character he seemed to be, the sheer amount of arrogance _and_ importance he held to cause a scene between the two detectives by simply introducing himself would have had been enough to make Ed more than interested in learning more.

As he followed him through the length of the hall, watching him curiously, Ed realized not without amusement, why exactly Oswald Cobblepot was dubbed “the Penguin”. His rather severe limp strikingly resembled a penguin’s wobble, and as they soon came close to each other, there was no denying that also in his pointy hooked nose, his dainty face and his careful movements there was a unique likeness to a bird. Even all the way up to his hairstyle, it forced one to think more of feathers than human hair. Yet, despite the delicate appearance, the intriguing man had undeniable strength about him. He was a walking contradiction, extreme opposites condensed down to a single, incredibly alluring person. He was intimidating, and the air around him seemed to be charged with confidence bordering with pretentious smugness; like despite standing at a rather unimpressive height, he still would be able to beat any potential perpetrator into a bloody pulp. Or, even better, outsmart them in the most masterful manner. Like his bones were made of glass, but his skin was laced with steel, and his mind was a vault filled to the brim with secrets.

There was no denying that he was bright, recognizing that Ed wasn’t just every other officer, not another dull employee counting down seconds to go back home to their miserable lives. No, Oswald was altered, ready to defend himself if there was a need, while still being sure of his position and perhaps even his superiority. Their exchange was brief, but Ed couldn’t help but feel—no, he couldn’t help but _know_ that there was some sort of a connection made between them, like it was fate itself that made it possible for them to meet, no matter how short the interaction was. And even as he walked away to attend to his duties, he kept turning back to look at Oswald, nearly vibrating from the excitement he was experiencing, making all of his internal organs shake. How thrilling it was to meet someone so, so interesting. At last, someone other than another boring cop with a broken moral compass, or a hero wannabe believing in saving this city, or a petty thief looking for ways to afford another fix, or a small-minded criminal unable to see past the tip of their own nose. Ed looked over his shoulder again. Their paths would cross again. He was certain of it. 

*

When he crossed the threshold of the G.C.P.D., he had hoped for it to be a short and simple visit, one that would take no longer than a ten minutes, end successfully, and would not bring unnecessary attention to him. Although Oswald certainly did not like to think little of himself, being still a fairly unknown persona definitely had its perks and benefits, such as being able to walk into the police station without getting as much as a bored or otherwise reluctant look from one of its employees. Perhaps this surge of confidence, or the excitement he felt at the perspective of seeing his friend again, was what clouded his perception badly enough that it wasn’t until he had already reached Jim’s desk that he had realized he was being watched. It was rather astonishing that Oswald hadn’t noticed him earlier for two reasons exactly: one, he was not being subtle _at all_ , and two, there was some quality about him that caused a fair share of difficulties to properly describe. There was something about his movements, unnaturally fluid and clinical that made him appear more like a robot than a real person. And there was his gaze, so fixated on this one point, this one person, like the rest of the world ceased to exist. It was unsettling, to put in the simplest terms. 

Then, as he followed Oswald across the entire length of the main hall of the station, and they found themselves in a close proximity to each other, the feeling only further intensified. This man was strange, from the tips of his suede shoes, through questionable taste in clothing to the roots of his slicked-back hair. He introduced himself as Edward Nygma, and there were so many perplexing things about him that it was impossible to decide where to even begin. The manner in which he spoke was just as unusual as the way he carried himself, seemingly void of emotions but with something sizzling just underneath the surface. The wide smile stitched to his high cheekboned face appeared honest, yet at the same time it never quite reached his dark eyes. There was a glimmer in them, without a shade of doubt, but it was far from the joyous sparkles he so clearly hoped they seemed to be. They were almost feverish, like there was something crawling under his skin, something that he even himself wasn’t quite aware of. One thing that all of these characteristics had in common was that they screamed “danger”, but not in a way a gun pointed between your eyes might, but rather like a knife in someone’s pocket, waiting to be used. 

There was no rhyme or reason to Nygma’s motivations to even engage in a conversation—he said himself that he wanted nothing. And seeing how he emphasized that he _knew_ who Oswald was, it could only mean that the danger was thrilling to him. If it was anyone else, anyone else at all, it would be easy to dub Nygma simply stupid, but this was not the case at all. In the midst of these mixed and disturbing signals, Oswald could be sure of one thing: he was looking at someone who was too smart for his own good. Certainly someone smarter than the drunken shade of a man Jim’s parter was, smarter even than Jim himself. If there was one person in the G.C.P.D. that was worth looking out for, it was without a doubt Edward Nygma. After he stepped aside, likely returning to whatever police duties he was assigned, Oswald still couldn’t quite get rid of the odd tingling at the back of his neck. Was he any more superstitious, he would think that something profound has just occurred, something of significance, something that would irreversibly change his life. But he wasn’t. All he did was to make a mental note that there is yet another person he should be wary of. 


End file.
